


Precipice

by Shaddyr



Series: Stories of a (not quite average) Life [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, McShep Match Challenge 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaddyr/pseuds/Shaddyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney can't protect John against – well, everything. It's making him a little bit crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precipice

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for the 2012 McShep match. It was fun to be involved for the second year in a row
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful outsid3thebox, who as usual, was my fabulous beta and sounding board. 
> 
> My Prompt was "Out Of Line".
> 
>  
> 
> **Definition - Out of line:**  
>  _\- Beyond certain set or assumed limits._  
>  \- Uncalled for, improper; inappropriate.  
> \- Completely unacceptable.

"JOHN!"

The scream tore from Rodney's throat as groceries and cell phone dropped to the ground forgotten. He sprinted across the parking lot and into the intersection where John lay in a crumpled heap.

"Nonono," he chanted, dropping to his knees at Sheppard's side. There was blood streaming down his face from his hairline, and Rodney reached out a shaking hand to touch his throat. "Oh, thank god," he whispered as he located a pulse. John was still breathing, but it was laboured in a way that bespoke internal injuries.

"Oh my god, is he okay?" came a tremulous voice from behind Rodney. "I didn't see him, he came out of nowhere! I didn't-"

Terror warred with fury as Rodney's gaze snapped over and fixed on the remorseful driver. "If he dies, I will end you!" he promised with a snarl. "I will hunt you down and destroy your pathetic little life." The man recoiled in fear, but Rodney had already dismissed him as inconsequential. He was peripherally aware that people had started to gather, but they, too, were of no consequence. His entire focus was on John. 

"I can't believe you," he said as he ran his fingers over John's scalp. "You go up alone against a Wraith ship and come out unscathed, but you can't survive a trip to the grocery store-"

Rodney's voice hitched and caught, and he angrily scrubbed back a tear with the back of one hand before returning it to John's scalp. "You're going to be okay. You goddamn well better be okay, you hear me?" 

He didn't get an answer – not that he was expecting one. There was a long laceration on John's scalp, which would explain all the blood, but no obvious fractures. He moved down John's body, carefully checking for broken bones, and noted the road rash on his right arm and leg - and shit, his leg was twisted at an entirely unnatural angle. John's breathing seemed to be getting worse as well; Rodney could hear the tell-tale sound of broken ribs rubbing together with every breath John drew. He grasped John's wrist to check his pulse rate – fluttery, and far too rapid.

This was bad, and he didn't trust voodoo at the best of times, but if voodoo was what John needed, then he needed to get it from the best possible practitioners.

 

*  
***  
*

 

They were running late, as usual. A day never passed without someone demanding Rodney's attention; a client wanting a consult, a last minute issue at the lab, or someone from the SGC needing his expertise. At the moment, Radek was the one peppering him with emails. He was a keynote speaker at some symposium on Particle Astrophysics in the South Pacific this weekend, but still seemed to have endless free time in which to postulate ridiculous hypotheses for the sole purpose of causing Rodney no end of headaches.

He shook his head as he scanned the email and began to type a response. Clearly, leaving the man in charge of the city had given him the delusion that he matched Rodney's brilliance. He was just formulating his response when he heard a huff of frustration come from behind him. "McKay! Get your ass in gear!" 

Rodney glanced over his shoulder to where John stood, hands on hips, mouth twisted in annoyance. 

"I'll be there in a minute; I just need to finish this-"

John cut him off. "You've been saying that for the last half hour, Rodney." 

"I've been *busy* for the last half hour! Besides, it's just a BBQ with your work-out buddies, it's not like they'll care if we're a little late."

Rodney watched the annoyed expression twist into a pout. "But you promised you'd make that awesome Thai Noodle Salad." 

"Oh, for God's sake," he said, rolling his eyes. "I said no such thing. I promised that I'd take care of bringing something. We can stop at Save-on and pick-up a salad. It's not like they deserve my culinary genius anyway."

"But I wanted the left-overs!" John complained. 

"I'll make it for you tomorrow, will you stop whining about it now?" He turned back to his keyboard and typed another sentence before finally sending a scathing reply to Radek's email. "Fine, I'm done, but if Radek blows up the city because I didn't have time to explain to him in minute detail why he is wrong, wrong, oh so very wrong, I'm holding you responsible."

 

***

 

The supermarket was crazy busy, and it was Rodney's turn to bitch.

John just laughed. "It's a sunny Saturday afternoon," he said, bumping Rodney's shoulder as they waited in the interminable line up. "Everyone's going to be out grilling tonight." 

"I should have just made the damn salad," Rodney said with a scowl.

John waggled his eyebrows."Even though they don't deserve your culinary genius?"

"You don't plan to get laid anytime in the near future, do you?"

 

***

 

Rodney stopped and fumbled for his cell phone, dropping behind John as they headed back to the car. He glanced at the number and smirked. Radek. Probably wanted to whine about Rodney's last email.

John looked at him questioningly, and he just held up a finger.

"What?" he said gruffly, and winced at the explosion of Czech invective that poured across the line.

John smirked at him, clearly hearing Radek's haranguing across the distance that separated them. Rodney flipped him off and then turned away. "Well, if you don't like being called a moron, make sure you at least have a trained monkey go over your work before you send it to me!"

He heard John sigh. "Fine, you stand here and yell at Radek. I'll go get the car."

"I think your brain is turning to mush without me there to crack the whip, that's what I think," he said, gloating over the fact that he'd caught an error in Radek's math. Of course, he'd never let on that he'd only found it because John had wrinkled up his nose when he'd looked it over and insisted there was 'something hinky' with the equation. He turned back to watch John jogging across the lot to get to the car – he would never get tired of watching John's ass, which was especially nice in those form hugging shorts – and he saw it coming with crystal clarity as the blue Ford ranger that was barrelling up the street took a sudden left into the parking lot just as John ran across the intersection.

"JOHN!" 

 

***

Rodney slipped in the earwig with shaking fingers – neither of them ever went out without an earwig these days – and tapped it to activate the signal. "Daedalus, this is Dr. McKay, requesting emergency Evac. General Sheppard has been critically injured. Please assist with immediate beam out."

A long second passed while he wondered frantically if he'd been wrong about the ship being in orbit. "Dr. McKay, this is the Daedalus," said a voice in his ear. "Please advise as to the nature of the emergency."

"Are you kidding? What part of critically injured do you not understand?" There were people staring at him now. "He could be bleeding internally even as we speak! Beam us the hell up and I'll explain in the infirmary!"

"I'm sorry, sir," responded the voice in a tone that sounded more bored than sorry. "Emergency beam ups are reserved for situations where lives are at risk-"

"Look, you moron," McKay snapped, "If you don't have us beamed directly to the Daedalus infirmary in the next 5 seconds, I will make it my mission to insure that you are broken down to the lowest rank possible and assigned to scrubbing latrines with your toothbrush for the rest of your natural life! Now fucking well do your job!"

"Sir, the regulations require that the injury meet certain criteria to be able to authorize a beam out. I'll need you to explain-"

"FUCK!" McKay yelled, a sudden image of his hands tightening around the faceless airman's throat dancing before his eyes. "That's it, your career - your fucking life is so over! Get Lorne on the channel! Now, goddamit, NOW!"

There was a squeal in Rodney's ear and endless minutes passed as he waited. He could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance, but he didn't want John at the mercy of some civilian quack, especially after everything they'd been through in the last few months. He finally heard the click of an open channel. "This is Colonel Lorne."

"Oh, thank god," he said with relief. "Lorne, John's been hit by a car. I think he's got a couple broken ribs and I'm pretty sure his leg is broken too. He's having trouble breathing, so can you please beam us up before he dies lying on the pavement right here in front of me?"

He found himself shouting by the end, panting heavily as he waited for a response. For a moment, he thought his vision was blurring out, but then the Daedalus infirmary reformed around him, and suddenly he found himself being pushed out of the way as medical staff rushed in to surround John. 

"Slip the back board under –"

"Careful of his leg! Okay, he's stable, 1-2-3, lift!"

Rodney had enough presence of mind to stay out of the way while he watched them work. One nurse was putting a neck brace on John while another was checking his vitals.

"Pulse weak and thready, respiration laboured." 

The doctor was frowning as he examined him.

"Fracture of the right femur... a couple fractured ribs as well–" 

"He's going into shock, move it people!"

Rodney took a step toward John and a nurse careened into him, gasping in surprise as she did. The doctor's head snapped up and he scowled when he saw Rodney standing there.

"Get this man out of here," he ordered before turning his attention back to Sheppard 

Rodney started to protest when a hand clamped down firmly around his upper arm. He whipped around to take a chunk out of the offending party and found Lorne standing there.

"Easy, McKay," he said. "Let the doc do his job. What the hell happened?"

"He got hit by a goddamn truck in the parking lot while I watched," McKay raged. "That's what fucking happened!"

Lorne grimaced. "Damn. I'm sorry."

Rodney ignored him. "Is your doctor any good?" 

"Newcomb is the best," Lorne assured him, then started herding him toward the door. Rodney tried to pull away.

"Nonono, I'm not going anywhere-"

"You are getting the hell out of the infirmary," Lorne disagreed. "There is nothing you can do and the doc needs to work on Sheppard, not answer 50 questions," he said as he forced Rodney out into the hallway. 

"But I need to know what's happening!"

Lorne stopped and jerked Rodney around to face him. "You're not helping here, you know. Matthews would have beamed you up right away if you'd told him what you told me, but instead you wasted time beaking-off and having a tantrum! "

"Well, he should have beamed us up on my say so!" Rodney argued. "I would have thought that my word was enough!"

"He was following established protocol, McKay!" Lorne rubbed a hand over his face. "Back on Atlantis, you could snap your fingers and anyone on the expedition would have jumped while asking you if it was high enough. But my officers don't know you, and they don't know they can trust you. And they have rules to follow. And you can't just threaten them because you don't like that!" he finished with a glare.

McKay glared back then wrenched away from Lorne's grasp. "If something happens to John because he didn't get treatment quickly enough –" 

"– then you'll be responsible for the fact that you caused a delay in his getting treatment in the first place," Lorne snapped back.

They just stood there, glowering at each other as people walking by gave them a wide berth. Rodney was just opening his mouth to throw another volley when the doctor came out.

"Colonel, Dr. McKay," he said, eyeing them wearily. "I'd appreciate it if you could take your argument somewhere other than the entrance of my sickbay."

"How is Sheppard?" Rodney asked.

"He was in shock, but we have him stabilized. He's got two non-displaced rib fractures, so he'll need some pain meds for a while, but looking at his file, it's nothing he hasn't experienced before. He'll need the road rash debrided in a few days, but I'm concerned about his leg. He suffered a comminuted fracture of the right femur, and while I can scrub in and do the operation, we're really set up mainly for triage at the moment. I think it would be best to send him down to the SGC as Dr. Lam already has a surgery set up for when these types of injuries happen to off-world teams. Dr. Worth is the SGC's resident orthopaedic surgeon and he's very good."

"Well, what are you waiting for then?"

The doctor fixed McKay with a look. "I was simply doing you the courtesy of informing you, Doctor." Newcomb turned to Lorne. "With your permission, sir, I'll have the General transferred to Dr. Lam's care."

Even as Rodney took a breath, Lorne's hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed painfully. "Shut it, McKay," he advised. "Thank you, Doctor. We'll let you get back to it."

Newcomb nodded then walked back into the infirmary. Rodney tried to shake off Lorne's hand with no success. "I need to go with him," he said, voice tight and angry. 

"Oh, you're going with him, alright," Lorne promised. "O'Neill is pretty pissed and wants a word with you."

"He's pissed off because I didn’t follow *protocol*?

Lorne took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. "No, McKay. He's pissed because some bystander caught the beam out on their iPhone and it's been playing on CNN non-stop pretty much ever since. The IOA started screaming for your blood about 30 seconds after that. " 

"Shit."

 

*  
***  
*

 

"Seriously, Rodney," Carter asked, exasperation evident. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that John could be dying," he said heatedly. "Stop asking me idiotic questions with self evident answers. I expect better of you."

O'Neill cocked an eyebrow. "You know, for someone who claims to be the smartest man in two galaxies, you sure pull some pretty stupid shit, so I'd knock of the 'idiotic' comments if I were you."

"Oh for god's sake!" Rodney exploded. "We've been revealing information about the Stargate program for months now. So the timeframe gets a little accelerated! It's not like it wasn't coming down the pike in the next year anyway!"

"You *know* the IOA worked out a very specific timetable for the release of information," Carter snapped. "The President has been dealing with constant calls from non-participant countries who are demanding equal access to beaming technology."

"Not to mention that we've detected that at least three Middle Eastern countries have gone to high-alert, launch-ready status," O'Neill said. "It makes the brass a bit twitchy when DC is suddenly being targeted by a dozen 500 kiloton nuclear warheads."

"It's not like we have anything to worry about," Rodney scoffed. "A couple of drones will take care of anything they can throw at us."

"Rodney!" Carter yelled, slapping a hand down on the table. "That's not even close to being the point! This shouldn't have happened at all! You could have at least waited till the ambulance arrived and we could have beamed Sheppard up once he was safely out of the public eye."

Rodney felt the fight drain out of him. "I panicked, Sam," he admitted as he leaned his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands. "He was gasping for breath and there was blood all over him and I have no idea what the quacks in the local hospital would do to him and –" He looked up, gaze flickering between her and O'Neill. "I didn't trust anyone else to take care of him."

O'Neill let out a sigh as he rubbed his eyes with one hand. "You've stirred up quite the shit storm, and there are going to be consequences. I think that IOA rep brought his chopping block with him." 

Rodney's eyes widened. "I can't talk to the IOA right now," he said with dismay. 

"You're going to have to suck it up and deal, McKay," O'Neill advised. "He's on his way."

"No, no, no, run interference for me, just for a couple of hours," he begged. "If I talk to him right now, he'll say something stupid and wrong and I'll say something true but insulting and make everything even worse!"

Sam frowned and turned to O'Neill. "Jack, we could stall him for a couple hours," she said. "You know what Thurman is like."

"Yeah, he's even more of an asshole than Coolridge," O'Neill agreed, eyeing Rodney. "All right, fine, let's get you out of here-" 

Unfortunately, an MP appeared at that moment to usher the IOA delegate into the room before they had a chance to so much as rise from their seats. He sat down and tossed a folder on the table. It slid across to stop in front of Rodney. He reached out to open it and found a stack of still photos from the accident and subsequent beam up in damning, high resolution clarity.

"Doctor McKay," he said, making his name sound like an accusation. "You are in violation of your non-disclosure agreement by revealing information about classified technology. Not only that, you did it in such a public way, it is impossible to cover it up. Your selfish, thoughtless actions have created an international incident and incited panic in numerous nations across the globe. Finally, using your position and access to classified technology for personal gain is an unacceptable abuse of power."

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Oh, stick a sock in it, Thurman," he said, his tone ringing with annoyance. "So the public found out about beaming technology six months earlier than they were scheduled to, big deal."

Rodney stared at O'Neill for a moment, nonplussed by hearing his own argument come out of the general's mouth. Jack just glanced over and winked at him before turning back to Thurman. "I'm sure the IOA can handle a little damage control."

Thurman ignored O'Neill, staring fixedly at Rodney. "Well, Doctor? Nothing to say? I'll have to take that as a tacit admission of guilt."

Rodney crossed his arms, lifting his chin as he stared back defiantly. "I agree to no such thing. General Sheppard was struck by a vehicle and appeared to be having serious trouble breathing as well as an erratic pulse. I was trying to save his life!"

"The preliminary report I received from Dr. Newcomb indicates that the General would have survived a trip to the local ER where he could have been adequately treated by a civilian doctor. Instead, you wasted program resources and revealed classified technology on a whim because you didn't feel like waiting for an ambulance which was already on the way and would have reached you within another few minutes."

"On a whim –" Rodney felt a little lightheaded and the fury hit afresh. He gripped the edge of the table with both hands, knuckles going white. "I've been in combat situations with Sheppard and I've seen him busted up more times that I care to recall. I made the call that his life was in immediate danger, and I stand by that."

"Of course you do. I'm sure the fact that Sheppard is your common-law husband had nothing to do with it at all," Thurman sneered. "You should have waited for the ambulance to arrive. The fact that you were previously stationed on Atlantis does not entitle you or the General to any type of preferential treatment, Doctor. And you certainly don't have the right to make a unilateral decision about revealing what are still state secrets."

"My decisions had nothing to do with the fact he's my husband or thinking we had any entitlement-" Rodney began, but Thurman cut him off.

"You are single-handedly responsible for the biggest security breach in the entire history of the Stargate program, and it will cost millions of taxpayers' dollars to do damage control and move up declassification schedule to adjust for the havoc you've caused. I will recommend to both the IOA and Stargate Command that you be dismissed from the program and that your security clearances are revoked."

Rodney heard Carter protest and O'Neill yell, but he felt a curious sense of calm. His entire point of focus shrank down to a picture on the table of him crouching over John as he lay, broken and bleeding on the pavement. But had he known that in the beginning, he still wouldn't have done anything differently because John had to be okay. He couldn't have taken a chance otherwise. The IOA, the SGC, the petty planetary governments squabbling over who had access to what technology – none of it mattered. All that mattered was John. Rodney was tired, and he was so done with all of this.

He carefully picked up the picture and put it in his shirt pocket. He nodded to O'Neill and Carter and then stood up. Carter's expression became alarmed and he almost smiled. She'd worked with him long enough to recognize that he was about to do something she wasn't going to like.

"Rodney-"

He just shook his head then turned to look at Thurman. "You can take your recommendation and go fuck yourself with it, you officious little bean-counting weasel. I quit."

With that, he strode out of the briefing room, ignoring the outcry that erupted behind him. He needed to go check on John.

 

*  
***  
*

 

Rodney watched from the observation room as Dr. Worth worked on John. It made him a little queasy, but he felt like he owed it to John to be here for him. They'd been at it for almost 4 hours now, and though Rodney had only been watching for about a half-hour, it felt like he'd been here the entire time.

He heard noises from the corridor outside the observation room. He ignored them until the door opened, and an argument spilled into the room.

"Goddamit, Thurman!" O'Neill bellowed, clearly at his wit's end. "This is not necessary! In case you've forgotten, I am the head of Homeworld Security, and I'm telling you that McKay's not a concern!"

"The moment Dr. McKay quit, he gave up his security clearances, General. And in case *YOU* forgot, guests of the SGC without appropriate clearance are only permitted in secured areas of the base, and the operating theatre observation room is not one of them."

"I'll stay with him," Carter said, butting in. "I'm willing to take full responsibility for his actions while on the base." 

Rodney stared at her, mouth hanging open and she gave him a fierce grin that said both _I'm on your side_ and _Do anything stupid and I'll kill you_.

"No, Colonel, you will not," Thurman said, shaking his head. "As per the decision handed down by the IOA a few minutes ago, Dr. McKay's resignation has been accepted and he will have to apply for clearance and be approved to regain entry to classified areas and technology. And during the declassification process, the SGC is under the purview of the IOA by direct mandate of the President. If you disagree with the IOA ruling, you can take it up with him."

Thurman turned to the MPs that had accompanied them. "Have this man removed from the mountain immediately," he ordered. "Be sure that all checkpoints are aware that Dr. McKay no longer works for the SGC and does not have clearance to be on the premises."

McKay glanced over the MPs who both looked uncomfortable. He peered a little closer at the tall one and realized he recognized the man from Atlantis.

"Harris, right?" he guessed.

The MP nodded. "I – I'm sorry sir, but we're going to have to ask you to come with us."

"That's John Sheppard in there, Harris," Rodney said looking back down at the surgery taking place. "Your former commanding office."

"Yes sir," Harris said with a nod. "One of the finest men I ever had the honour to serve under, sir."

Rodney nodded, then turned back to Thurman. "I'll leave once John's out of surgery, and not a second before."

"You'll leave *now* or you'll be dragged out in handcuffs and turned over to the CSPD for trespassing." He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "I know your type, McKay. You think you're better than everyone else, that the world owes you and that you can do anything you want and not be held accountable. You make a mess and you just leave it for others to deal with. Well, *I'm* not letting you get away with it. I'm going to make an example out of you so that anyone who thinks that name and fame will protect them from the consequences of their actions will know better." 

McKay clenched his fists and tried to tamp down the rage but it was too much. He was too far gone and he had. Just. Had it. "You stupid, sanctimonious prick." 

He could almost hear Ronon's voice – _"Use your body, McKay! Roll your hips into your punch. More power."_ He let it flow over him as he drew back his fist and let the punch fly, knocking Thurman ass over tea kettle. He lifted his hand to cradle his knuckles; he'd been warned to avoid punching in the face, but damn, that had felt good.

"Sonuvabitch!" O'Neill snapped out in exasperation as he rounded on the MPs. "Peterson? Harris? Neither one of you strapping young man were fast enough to stop the middle aged scientist from decking the IOA rep?" He glared at each MP in turn, but it seemed to Rodney there was more of a smirk on his face than was betrayed by his tone. 

"Damn sorry about that, sir," replied Harris, expression completely bland but for the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wasn't expecting that at all." He lightly placed a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "We'll escort him out immediately, sir."

"Oh, no you don't!" growled Thurman as Sam helped him up off the floor. He glared at her and she backed away. "You're going to be held accountable for this as well, Colonel!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" O'Neill shook a finger and Thurman. "You said she wasn't allowed to take responsibility for McKay, remember?" he said with a smirk. "You were too busy kicking him off the base while his husband is lying there undergoing surgery not 50 feet away from us. Nice show of compassion there, by the way."

"Take him to the brig!" Thurman yelled. "You're going to be up on charges for this, McKay!"

 

*  
***  
*

 

"Rodney?"

Rodney blinked groggily and struggled to a sitting position on the cot. "Sam?"

She smiled as she came in, and nodded at the MP to close it behind her. She pulled the chair out from the desk and turned it to sit down and face him. "I'm glad you got a nap in," she said. "You really looked like hell, McKay."

He grimaced. "Thanks, Sam." He looked at her hopefully. "How's John?"

"He's out of surgery and resting comfortably. The doctor said the procedure went well and he predicts that, barring unforeseen complications, John will be fine. It'll be a few more hours before he's awake." She smiled but then the expression dropped away as she regarded him seriously. "Rodney. What's going on?"

He rolled his eyes. "I already told you," he said with a sigh. "I lost it, I admit it."

"No," she disagreed. "It's more than that. Hey," she gave him a stern look when he tried to wave her off. "I've known you for years now. I've seen you at your best and your worst, but I've never seen you like this."

"Like what?" he demanded.

She bit her lip, studying him for a moment. "Terrified. Rodney, come on. This is me. What is it?"

He looked at her bleakly, then looked away at the wall, his hand plucking nervously at the sheet on the bed. "John's been going to a naturopath lately."

Sam remained quiet, just waiting for him to continue. He didn't disappoint.

"He's been taking better care of his health lately. About 6 months ago, he noticed he had a recurring pain in his, uhm-" he gestured down at his groin, and she nodded. "Anyway, I nagged him for a few weeks, because you just never know, so he finally made an appointment to go see the doctor."

"What was it?"

He swallowed. "It was cancer."

Sam tried not to gasp. "Is it – I mean, is he –"

"Yes, yes, he's fine," Rodney nodded. "They operated right away, and they caught it early. Stage one – one chemo treatment, that's it." Rodney let out a huff of laughter. "He didn't even lose any hair." He finally looked at her. "It's just – I feel like I've spent my whole life waiting for John to die."

She gave him a confused look, and he shook his head.

"That didn't come out right," he said. "Look, I've always known that he was going to die, it's just that I figured it would be while fighting off an incursion, or going up against a Wraith ship or out on a mission exploring yet another whacked out Ancient lab laden with suicidal Ascension devices. And the thing was, back on Atlantis, I could save him. I could build a better gun, make the puddle jumpers be faster, even design a stronger shield. And if the day ever came that I couldn't, well, I wasn't likely to outlive him long enough to grieve."

He gave a snort. "But we lived. We survived the Genii and the Wraith and the Replicators. We came back to Earth, we bought a house – a house for god's sake, like we're some normal, happy gay couple, with a dog and a cat and a niece who comes to visit for a month every summer. And I can't protect him here, Sam! I can't build a gun that will keep the cancer away, and I can't build a shield to protect him from drunk drivers and I can't lose him Sam, I just can't!"

Before he'd even finished speaking, Sam was leaning forward, enfolding him in her arms. He sank to his knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her waist, face pressed into her belly, weeping with the full shuddering sobs that come with the terror of dangling over the precipice by a fraying rope with nothing there to catch you if you fall.

"He's going to be okay, Rodney," she whispered into his hair as she rocked him gently. "Everything's going to be okay." 

 

*  
***  
*

 

Rodney lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling. It had been three days since the accident. Three days of being confined to this room – which he wasn't kicking up a huge stink about because if what Thurman said was true, demanding to be let out would result in an immediate expulsion from the mountain. At least if he stayed in custody Carter and O'Neill could drop by with news about how John was doing. O'Neill had also alluded to the fact that Woolsey was raising all out holy hell with the IOA. He grinned at the thought of Woolsey squaring off against Thurman. That would truly be a sight to behold.

Harris had taken to bringing him his meals. He also brought news by talking in a very roundabout way, often referencing things that only original Atlantis expedition members would get. This neatly kept Rodney up-to-date on the goings on around the base without actually discussing anything classified –which, of course, he was no longer cleared for.

He glanced over at the books sitting in the desk. He was bored and listless and it was almost time for Sam to come by with a John report. Sure enough, he heard the sound of the door handle and he sat up – to find Sheppard being wheeled in by Sam. John looked pale and drawn and Rodney had never seen him looking more beautiful in his whole life. "Hey, Rodney."

"John," he said as he jumped up from the cot, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to him. He grabbed John's face and kissed him, gently, firmly, and with great conviction. John's hands reached up to rest on Rodney's sides, stroke up and down in a calming motion. Rodney eventually broke off the kiss to rest his forehead against John's Athosian style.

"You need a remedial lesson in looking both ways before crossing the street," Rodney muttered before drawing back to drop a kiss on John's forehead and then sit down before his back seized up. He let a hand slide down John's arm and snag one of his hands, holding on tight.

John gave a small laugh. "Yeah," he agreed. "Right after you explain to me exactly how you ended up with two restraining orders, an assault charge and in the brig? Also, you pissed off the President. The PRESIDENT, Rodney! We sort of work for him, you know?"

"Maybe YOU still do, but I don't anymore," Rodney muttered.

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, about that... did O'Neill neglect to mention that he talked to the President the day after Thurman left and that your resignation was refused? You've been reinstated to your previous status and clearances."

"He did what?" Rodney squawked. 

"He was kind of curious why you weren't raising holy hell about being stuck in here."

"But - no one *said* anything!"

"And you didn't wonder why there was no MP stationed outside your door anymore?" John asked, openly grinning now. "O'Neill said that he would have told you but he was really enjoying the peace and quiet."

"Oh, that unmitigated bastard, he's going to pay!" Rodney fixed Sam with a scowl. "Don't give me that innocent look! You knew!"

"Possibly," she agreed with a smirk. "But I think the rest did you good, Rodney. And John wasn't allowed visitors until today – so he insisted he be allowed to come down and break you out of stir."

Rodney was about to launch into a rant when he saw John grimace. He was instantly contrite. "John, are you okay?"

"I'm a little uncomfortable," he admitted.

"That's it," he said and summarily commandeered the wheelchair, shouldering a bemused Sam out of the way. "Back to the infirmary with you. If you're actually admitting you're uncomfortable, you're at a pain level that would have a normal person screaming for morphine!"

He'd wheeled John halfway to the elevator when John spoke again, quietly this time. "I'm sorry."

Rodney froze, overwhelmed for a moment. "Just – don't do it again, okay?"

"Alright," John agreed as they started moving again. "Can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Could you please stop threatening people and punching them out?" John whined. "It's embarrassing to have the marines tell me that my geeky scientist boyfriend is tougher than I am."

Rodney let out a disgruntled huff as he started pushing the chair again. "That's your geeky scientist common-law husband, and if you keep whining, I'm going to punch _you_ out," he said as he hit the call button. 

"Spousal abuse!" John mock yelled, covering his head with his hands. Rodney backed them into the elevator car, taking care not to jostle the chair more than necessary.

"Just keep it up, funny man, and I'll show you abuse," he threatened just before the elevator doors closed, leaving the hallway quiet and peaceful once more.


End file.
